


So Far Away

by touch



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bokuto Koutarou is a Loving Boyfriend, Explicit Sexual Content, Healing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kinda, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Sexual Abuse, Second Button Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-06-29 11:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19829434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/touch/pseuds/touch
Summary: See, Akaashi had already mapped his life out: First, Bokuto would graduate, and the distance would help Akaashi get over his crush enough to let it go. Then, he would graduate and go to university, get a job, and disappoint his parents by never marrying or having children. They wouldn’t understand, but he would make up for it in career success. There. Perfect plan for a not-so-perfect life.But this, this stupid fucking button. It changed everything, opening a door Akaashi could never quite make himself lock. The stinging behind his nose made him close his eyes against the rush of tears. He could never be with Bokuto, who didn’t deserve everything bad about Akaashi.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains no NSFW content, that will be in the second and third chapters, but it's not really supposed to be erotic. This fic is about healing from trauma, coming to terms with it, and overcoming it. That said, this fic is me coping with my own trauma, so please don't comment anything weird or hurtful! They'll be moderated for the safety of others, but I still have to read them lmao. Obvious trigger warnings for past/implied sexual abuse and talk of trauma. Read with caution.  
> Title named after So Far Away by Avenged Sevenfold - I've been really addicted to this song, so give it a listen!

When Bokuto confessed by giving his second button at the third years' graduation, Akaashi felt his face light on fire. He had stammered and accepted the button, but Bokuto had walked away before he could say anything, already expecting rejection. And for a while, Akaashi didn’t know what to say to Bokuto, who he had longed for and dreamed of for years. His heart ached, sitting up in bed long past midnight, looking at the button in his palm, amazed that something so small could have derailed his life like this. This button was the wrench in his plans, blindsiding him in a way that gave Akaashi a stupid amount of hope. 

See, Akaashi had already mapped his life out: First, Bokuto would graduate, and the distance would help Akaashi get over his crush enough to let it go. Then, _he_ would graduate and go to university, get a job, and disappoint his parents by never marrying or having children. They wouldn’t understand, but he would make up for it in career success. There. Perfect plan for a not-so-perfect life.

But _this_ , this stupid fucking button. It changed everything, opening a door Akaashi could never quite make himself lock. The stinging behind his nose made him close his eyes against the rush of tears. He could never be with Bokuto, who didn’t deserve everything bad about Akaashi. Even thinking about Bokuto _knowing_ …it made him want to retreat further into his itchy skin, breath feeling wrong in his lungs. 

So Akaashi didn’t do anything about the button, kept it tucked in his pillowcase so he could caress it to lull himself to sleep, but he said nothing to Bokuto. Soon, he’d be at university and he’d forget all about Akaashi. Akaashi never intended to be with anyone in the first place, never intended to engage in intimacy with another person. He would be alone for his own good as well as the good of everyone else. Especially Bokuto. It was for the best, or at least Akaashi tried to convince himself so when he cried silently into his blanket. 

He was doing a reading for class when his mother called him downstairs. She stood at the front door and Akaashi’s heart jumped into his throat when he saw Bokuto’s wild hair and burning golden eyes. His mother left them with a gentle smile and Akaashi tried not to be angry with her for it, she didn’t know.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto moved in to hug him, wrapping him in strong arms and Akaashi tried not to melt into the touch. “It’s been so long, you haven’t texted me back! Did something happen?” Though his question sounded genuinely confused, Akaashi could see in his eyes what he was really asking: _Was it the confession?_

Suddenly overwhelmed, Akaashi gestured to Bokuto to follow him. They made their way up the stairs and Akaashi tried to quell the panic in his throat, begging himself to keep his composure until Bokuto left. Once inside the quiet of Akaashi’s room, Bokuto burst.

“Akaashi, if my confession made you uncomfortable, I’m really sorry. I had to tell you, though!” His words were so rapid that they matched the beat of Akaashi’s heart. Bokuto’s tone was pleading and his eyes swelled with tears as he begged, “Akaashi, I don’t want to lose your friendship over this, I promise nothing has to change if you don’t want it to.”

“Bokuto-san…” 

Akaashi couldn’t make himself form more words, afraid of what might slip out. His back pressed against the door, hands clenched into fists in an effort to not reach out. He wanted to tell Bokuto _yes_ , that they could be together, that Akaashi liked him too. He wanted to kiss him and hold his face in his hands and touch his hair. He wanted so much, but he couldn’t have it. Bokuto deserved better. 

Finally, Akaashi heaved a breath and whispered, “Bokuto-san, you don’t want to be with me.”

“Of course I do –”

“I’m rotten. I’m no good for you,” he said. “You don’t want someone like me.”

Bokuto’s face crumbled. “Akaashi, what are you talking about? You’re the best, you’re _everything_.” He reached for Akaashi, crossing the ocean between them to grip Akaashi’s wrist gently. “You’re not rotten, you’re perfect.”

Through his teeth, through the stinging of his sinuses, Akaashi hissed, “You don’t _know_ , Bokuto-san. You have no idea. You deserve better than me.”

“I don’t care about what I deserve,” Bokuto insisted, squeezing Akaashi’s wrist. “I _want_ you. Please,” he whispered, “please give me a chance. Don’t let this pass by without letting me try.”

Akaashi was crying now. He could feel that his face was scrunched up, ugly and wet. His chest heaved with short gasping breaths and quiet noises and he felt so _hot_ and _embarrassed_ and _ashamed_. Bokuto didn’t know what he was asking for, didn’t know how ruined Akaashi was. When he found out, he’d be disgusted, and Akaashi wouldn’t be able to handle that. “Please,” Akaashi whispered, unsure of what he was asking for. “Please Bokuto-san. You don’t know.”

Bokuto lifted Akaashi’s hand until it rested on his cheek, moving his own to thumb away some of the tears under Akaashi’s puffy eyes. “I want to know, Akaashi. Let me.” 

Akaashi folded, pressing his face into Bokuto’s strong shoulder, sobbing as Bokuto’s equally strong arms held him together, kept him from falling onto the floor and never getting back up. Even though he wasn’t much shorter than Bokuto, he felt so small, like a child again. The sounds released from his chest were horrible, babbling words he didn’t remember giving permission to slip past his lips.

_You’ll hate me, you’ll never see me the same, I can’t, please._

Time slipped by in a blur, eventually landing them on the ground, curled up together against Akaashi’s bed. Bokuto rocked him gently, pressing sweet kisses to his temples and rubbing his arms until the trembling turned faint, though still there. The rise and fall of Bokuto’s chest was grounding, something constant and calm to focus on, and Akaashi even began to feel drowsy with its comfort. 

“Akaashi,” Bokuto breathed. It was so quiet, but it broke Akaashi from his trance. “You’re right,” he said, and Akaashi flinched before he continued, “I don’t know. I don’t know what you’ve been through that’s hurt you this bad. But you don’t have to tell me right now. Or ever, if you don’t want to.” Akaashi curled his fist into Bokuto’s shirt at its side. “But if you do, I’m here to listen. And no matter what you tell me, it could never make me hate or think differently of you. You mean more to me than anyone else in my life.”

A stray tear or two dripped down his face once more. “I’m sorry, Bokuto-san.”

“Don’t.” It was gentle, but final. “Don’t ever apologize for this.”

It was late at night by the time Bokuto had to leave, but he called Akaashi immediately after he stepped out of the door. Akaashi fell asleep that night to the soothing sound of Bokuto telling a story, of Bokuto breathing deeply, of Bokuto telling Akaashi he loved him. 

Unlike other survivors he’s read about, it wasn’t a relative, a family friend, or a babysitter who did it. It wasn’t even a stranger. Unlike other survivors, Akaashi didn’t have an adult to blame for everything, which only made it infinitely worse. It was another child, one who probably didn’t know any better at the time, and one who probably didn’t remember what he’d done to Akaashi now that they were grown up. It made him sick to think about it, that he was the only one who remembered. 

He supposed he could blame the boy’s mother, who was, in his own mother’s opinion, a trashy whore. He supposed maybe the boy’s mother was too sexual and uncensored around her children, teaching them things they were too young to know. But how could he know that?

Regardless of how the boy had learned about the things he knew, he’d still forced Akaashi to do them with him. 

Akaashi’s brain had repressed it for a long time, though. Always _knowing_ it had happened without allowing him to realize _what_ had happened. It wasn’t until he was fifteen that the memories came crashing and burned him alive, leaving him sobbing and shaking and whispering his new truth: _I was raped_. 

It wasn’t until months into their relationship that Akaashi told Bokuto. Rather than verbally saying it, though, he wrote it for Bokuto to read, knowing himself enough to realize _saying_ it would send him panicking. He watched Bokuto read it, though, alone in Akaashi’s bedroom while his parents were out of town. Bokuto’s face was stone cold the whole way through, even as tears slipped down his cheeks and he sniffed back snot. His knuckles were white with the way they clenched the paper and Akaashi could see he was trembling with anger. 

When he finished, he folded the paper slowly, staring at the grain of Akaashi’s desk before he closed his eyes and more tears fell. It took several minutes for him to look at Akaashi, who sat on his bed trying his best not to throw up from nerves. There was so much pain in Bokuto’s eyes that Akaashi immediately reached for him, forgetting that he was scared of Bokuto’s reaction. 

Bokuto, rather than allowing Akaashi to comfort him, folded him once more in his arms and held him so tight it almost hurt. He whispered wetly, “I’m so sorry, Keiji.”

“It’s not your fault,” Akaashi whispered back. 

Aggressively, Bokuto pushed him back to look at him, holding him at arms length. “It’s not yours, either, Akaashi. Don’t you ever think otherwise.”

Years of silent suffering scream at him that Bokuto was _wrong_ , that, if he’d been stronger, he wouldn’t have been taken advantage of. If he’d been stronger, he wouldn’t be so affected by it years later. But he knew not to argue with Bokuto right then. Instead, he took Bokuto’s shirt in hand and led him to the bed. They laid side by side, wiping each other’s tears and holding each other. 


	2. Chapter 2

For a long time, Bokuto and Akaashi avoided the subject of sex. Their kisses would get intense sometimes, maybe accidental rutting would occur, but they never pushed past that. Akaashi knew Bokuto could continue that way forever and still be happy, still smile at him like he was the world. It was obvious that after Akaashi pulled away, slowed them to a stop and pulled his hips by force from Bokuto’s thigh and Bokuto excused himself to the bathroom, he was getting off alone. It astonished Akaashi that he didn’t want more, never asked for it or even hinted at it. 

It would be fine, except Akaashi wanted more, too. He wanted to touch Bokuto, wanted Bokuto to touch him, but he was terrified. He was so scared of freezing up, of panicking, of having a flashback. He was scared most of all that Bokuto would think it was his fault if something went amiss.  Akaashi, as much as he wished that he could just push forward, knew he needed to talk to Bokuto about it. 

One night in Bokuto’s university dorm, he pulled back from Bokuto’s mouth, panting and pleasantly aroused. Bokuto took this to mean it was time to wind down, beginning to pry himself from Akaashi’s grip.

“Koutarou,” Akaashi stopped him. “Can we…talk about something?”

Intrigued, Bokuto nodded, settling back on the bed. Akaashi twisted his mouth for a moment, but Bokuto stayed silent, letting him work out his own words, brushing his thumb across Akaashi’s knuckles while he waited. 

Huffing, Akaashi forced out, “I want to try doing stuff.”

“Huh?” Bokuto makes a sound, obviously surprised and confused. “What kind of stuff?”

“Sex stuff,” Akaashi said. It sounded like a bullet leaving a gun. 

Bokuto’s brows shot straight up to his hairline. “Keiji, are you sure?”

Nodding, Akaashi trained his eyes on Bokuto’s neck. “I’ve been wanting it for a while, but I’ve been scared…I don’t want to scare you or mess things up.”

“You won’t mess things up, Keiji.”

“I - I know that,” Akaashi swallowed. He forced himself to look back to Bokuto’s eyes and said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and I think I’m ready to…to try something.”

“Okay,” Bokuto nodded. His hand slid comfortingly up Akaashi’s spine, warm and large. “What did you want to try? Do you know?” Akaashi didn’t shake his head, but he guessed Bokuto could see the _no_ in his eyes, that he didn’t know where to start. Bokuto smiled, “Okay, how about…how about I jerk you off? You can be in full control, and we can stop any time you like.”

Hesitantly, Akaashi said, “I don’t know if I can return the favor…not yet.”

“That’s perfectly okay, Keiji,” Bokuto replied, shutting down Akaashi’s fear. 

With one more check for approval, Bokuto moved in to kiss Akaashi again. It was slow, languid, unlike their previous kisses that had been desperate and searching. The hand on Akaashi’s back moved down to dip under his shirt, sliding up to feel bare skin against his palm. The calluses on Bokuto’s hands provided a grounding feeling, something so distinctly different from any memory that he couldn’t deny where he was, who he was with. The taste of Bokuto’s toothpaste rushed over his tongue - Bokuto always insisted on brushing his teeth before they kissed - and steadied the erratic beat of Akaashi’s heart. 

Humming against Akaashi’s mouth, Bokuto tugged at the hem of his shirt, asking silently if it could come off. Before his veins lit up with panic, Akaashi reminded himself he was safe in Bokuto’s hands.

“No,” Akaashi whispered, “I need it to stay on.”

Without further question, Bokuto took his hand from Akaashi’s shirt and settled it at the small of Akaashi’s back instead. He rubbed at the skin, coming around to press against Akaashi’s abs before moving upward, giving Akaashi a questioning glance before brushing over his nipple. A shiver rushed through Akaashi at the sensation, so subtle but so good, and breath shook out of his mouth. 

Squeezing his eyes tight for a moment, Akaashi swallowed down a bit of the fear at the back of his throat. He was safe, he was safe, he was safe. Nothing would happen to him, Bokuto would never let anything happen to him. Opening his eyes once more, Akaashi locked gazes with Bokuto. He took Bokuto’s hand from underneath his shirt and dragged it downward. 

“Please touch me,” he said. 

With a breath and a kiss, Bokuto pushed his hand under the band of Akaashi’s shorts and boxers, fingertips brushing against Akaashi’s half-formed erection. Bokuto gently began to stroke him, knocking the wind from Akaashi’s lungs. It was faint, so the pleasure wasn’t intense, but it was so different from his own touch, from anything else he’d felt. The pleasure radiated from his groin to his stomach, and a firmer grip pulled a whine from him. 

All the while, Akaashi kept his eyes on Bokuto’s, his blown pupils and glazed golden irises. His hands clutched at the back of Bokuto’s neck, grabbing the short hairs there while he let his breath become heavy. He knew he wasn’t going to last long with Bokuto’s hand rubbing him in all the right ways, and he wanted to be looking right at Bokuto when he came, wanted to know he had a life preserver when he would be flung into open waters of pleasure. 

“Kou…”

Humming once more, Bokuto coaxed, “You’re doing so good, Keiji, so good.” His other hand clutched at the back of Akaashi’s shirt, pulling him closer when Akaashi began to tense with the nearness of his release. “So good, baby, come on.”

For a split second, Akaashi was too scared to let himself tumble into bliss, too scared to give himself over willingly. Then, he saw the tremble in Bokuto’s lip, and that small sign of weakness hurled him right over the edge. He gasped Bokuto’s name, bucking his hips into Bokuto’s hand, which was slowly milking him as he made a mess of where their stomachs pressed almost flush. A short, keening whine came out with his next exhale and Bokuto pressed their foreheads together, slowly stilling his hand. 

Akaashi pressed a gentle kiss to Bokuto’s lips. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, Keiji,” Bokuto said, smile stretching over his face. “Are you feeling okay?”

Akaashi nodded. Apart from his orgasm-induced shaking, Akaashi felt mostly at ease. His clothes were on, Bokuto’s hands were firmly rested on his waist and back, and his heart was slow. Everything felt okay.

“I’ll be right back,” Bokuto said, starting to pull from Akaashi.

“What? Where are you going?”

“To go, um, take care of myself,” Bokuto replied, flashing a bashful smile. “I won’t be too long, don’t worry.”

Feeling heat flush his cheeks, Akaashi grasped Bokuto’s hand and said quietly, “You can stay. Please.” It felt horrifically close to begging, but Akaashi’s brain muddled with arousal at the thought of feeling Bokuto’s release, of being there for it. “I won’t be able to…help, but please. Please stay.”

After a moment, Bokuto relaxed, laying back down beside Akaashi but ensuring there was a small space between them. Akaashi leaned in to kiss Bokuto as he began touching himself, and the feeling of Bokuto’s low sounds and hot breaths against his lips sparked something in his belly. The slow, gentle pace Bokuto had used on Akaashi was nowhere to be found, his arm jerking harder and faster on himself, forcing his breathing to become heavier. Akaashi caressed Bokuto’s neck before moving his mouth to kiss at the expanse of skin there. 

Bokuto’s breath caught and he let out a short whine, body tensing and bowing beneath his own touch. Drunk with the reaction he’d received, Akaashi pressed his kisses harder, scraped his teeth before biting down and sucking a mark into Bokuto’s neck. Immediately, Bokuto seized and groaned loudly into Akaashi’s ear, hips bucking into his hand with his release. 

“ _Fuck!_ ” Bokuto’s free hand curled itself into Akaashi’s shirt. “Keiji, _fuck._ ”

With one last, long moan, Bokuto gasped and shook against Akaashi for a moment, hips stilling and hand pulling out of his boxers. Gently, Akaashi tongued at the mark he’d left behind, letting the thrill of Bokuto’s release rush through him. He hadn’t known another person’s pleasure could feel this good, could make him feel so high. When he pulled back, Bokuto’s golden eyes were hazy yet pleased. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

With a smile, Akaashi nodded. “I didn’t know I would enjoy that so much.”

Bokuto laughed lightly, pulling Akaashi closer to kiss him. “Come on, let’s go clean up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kind response to this fic! I've decided to expand it to a three chapter work instead of two. I have too much to write for this! Next chapter will have a kind of heavy section, but don't worry too much!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for drug use (weed) and a strange version of a panic attack. The panic attack is from my own experience, so if it seems a little weird, that's because it is.   
> Thank you to anyone who's read this! This fic means a lot to me, and it feels like I've closed some doors, or at least made them less open than before. I hope this fic can help others, too. Trauma survivors are never alone!

Things progressed from there with tentative touching and exploration on Akaashi’s part and continual support and love from Bokuto. Akaashi became comfortable with handjobs and even became enthusiastic about giving them, wanting to touch Bokuto any chance he got. He found something fulfilling and healing in giving Bokuto pleasure, the way he was vulnerable and trusting under Akaashi’s hand. 

Akaashi knew he would never be comfortable with using his mouth, though. Memories were too strong and Bokuto’s eyes too far away for him to feel safe. He tried, though, only to end up resting his head against Bokuto’s hip and whispering _I can’t_. Those times ended in Bokuto forgoing his arousal and wrapping Akaashi in his arms, assuring him that it was okay, that he never had to do anything he was uncomfortable with. 

It left Akaashi guilty, though. Bokuto was as enthusiastic with his mouth as Akaashi was with his hands, and it roiled his stomach to know that he would never be able to return the favor to Bokuto. After a long period of Akaashi denying blowjobs and settling for Bokuto’s hand, Bokuto tentatively stopped him. 

“Is something wrong, Keiji?” Bokuto asked. “Are you uncomfortable with my mouth? Because I’ll stop asking you, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Staring at Bokuto’s chest, he whispered, “I feel selfish.”

“Huh?”

“It feels…selfish to let you do that to me when I can’t return the favor,” Akaashi said. He felt sick, any previous arousal stamped out and drowned. 

Bokuto was silent for a moment, and the look in his eyes was something so hurt, but not toward Akaashi. He was hurt _for_ Akaashi, and it made him sick with guilt. “Keiji, baby,” he said, reaching out to cradle Akaashi’s face. Akaashi attempted to shy away, but Bokuto held him firm, forcing him to look in his eyes. His gaze shifted from hurt to determined. “Baby, I would be perfectly fine if you never wanted to touch me. I just want you to feel safe and happy with me.” 

“Kou, it’s not fair –”

“Did I say anything about fair?” Bokuto asked, brow raised. “I love making you feel good, and if you’re not okay with doing the same to me, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Bokuto’s thumb slid along the curve of Akaashi’s ear, and the simplicity of it hurt his chest. “I would be okay if we never had sex, but as long as you want it, I want to make you feel good. No conditions, none of this ‘fairness’ nonsense. Anything you’re okay with.”

Knowing this was a losing fight, Akaashi nodded and pushed himself into Bokuto’s chest. The next time they were intimate, Bokuto took Akaashi into his mouth and never let his hands leave Akaashi’s skin, bringing him to an Earth-shattering finish that left little white stars in the corners of his vision. He brought Bokuto off with a lube-covered hand, pressing free fingers into the swell of Bokuto’s ass as Bokuto groaned into his neck and came over Akaashi’s knuckles. 

It never felt fair, but Akaashi eventually let go of that. Life wasn’t fair, but he could make it more enjoyable, more pleasurable for both Bokuto and himself. He finally felt done with denying himself what Bokuto was so ready to give. 

They explored tentatively but enthusiastically. The first time Akaashi fingered Bokuto, he came with a shout that Akaashi would never be able to forget. He shivered afterword for long minutes, sweat on his temple and at the small of his back, pulling Akaashi in for a gasping kiss as they worked his body down from such a new sensation. When Bokuto did the same to Akaashi, every movement and touch to his prostate sent a long moan to the walls. It was scary and new, but it was something he’d never felt before. It was untainted and good, and he had to squeeze back tears at the purity of his release, holding Bokuto as close as possible. 

They were at a party when it happened. Akaashi had been drinking a fair amount, but it was his first college party, he felt he’d earned it. When Kuroo first offered him the joint, he passed it to Bokuto without hitting it. He didn’t have a whole lot of interest in drugs, but he liked the dreamy things Bokuto said when he was high, so he didn’t mind when others did it around him. 

But when Bokuto looked at him with distant, vaguely lusting eyes and asked huskily, “Do you want to shotgun, Keiji?” he nodded and opened his mouth. 

The taste and burn was horrid, but he didn’t mind so much when Bokuto kissed him. He held the smoke for as long as he could – a few seconds at most – and released his breath before kissing Bokuto again. Each time Bokuto was handed the joint, he took a hit and leaned down to breathe it into Akaashi’s waiting mouth. They only did it a few times, stopping when Akaashi sputtered with a coughing fit to sit on a couch. After a while, Akaashi felt fuzzy, then giggly, then _gone_. 

He was vaguely aware of himself when he looked to Bokuto and felt arousal surge through him, pulling Bokuto into a feverish kiss as he moved to straddle him. He wanted Bokuto, wanted to make him feel good and moan against him so he could feel the vibrations against his warm skin. Moments folded together, their sequence confusing and unstable, but Akaashi kept his shaky focus on Bokuto. He shifted his hips, pressing them down into Bokuto’s, ignoring an unpleasant warmth at the back of his neck. 

He kissed through it at first, determined to please Bokuto, wanting so bad to get him off. Then the back of his neck, the base of his skull _burned_. It hurt, it was uncomfortable, and he could no longer focus on kissing anymore. He pulled back, whispered _hold on_ , and pressed his hand to the burn. He felt sick, squeezing his eyes closed. 

“Keiji, are you okay?” Akaashi shook his head. “What do you need?” Akaashi shook his head again. 

Everything was wrong. Everything felt so _wrong_ and he was so _angry_ because he wanted to do this for Bokuto, wanted to make him feel good, but he _couldn’t_. He was vaguely aware of Bokuto picking him up and his limbs clinging to Bokuto’s strong frame. He heard Bokuto excuse himself and Akaashi from the party and continued to cling for the short walk it took to get to Bokuto’s dorm. 

When he was laid on Bokuto’s bed, he curled into the fetal position and pressed his hands to the back of his neck once more. His heart was so fast and _fuck_ why did his body _burn_. Bokuto asked quietly if Akaashi wanted him to stay, then if Akaashi wanted him to touch him when he nodded. Akaashi never felt Bokuto join him on the bed, but he could hear his breathing, and that was a comfort on its own, lulling him to sleep. 

The following morning consisted of Bokuto bringing him breakfast from the dining hall and a long conversation about what had happened. Akaashi attempted apologies but Bokuto listened to none of it, firmly telling him that it wasn’t anything to be sorry for. After that, Akaashi set a new rule for himself – no sex while high.

Once he was in university, Akaashi went to therapy. He told the school’s counselor, wearing a flowery blouse and black slacks, everything he could stomach, then more. She mostly stayed quiet, occasionally asking him questions and giving her own thoughts. He got an official diagnosis of PTSD and general anxiety disorder and regularly went back to her – every month. He brought Bokuto in sometimes, letting his therapist bounce words off of Bokuto and watching them talk. Akaashi would never be able to thank Bokuto enough for his kindness. His understanding. His willingness to help Akaashi. 

Sex got easier, too. Akaashi’s guilt eased the more he talked with Bokuto and his therapist, allowing him to feel comfortable with his own limits. He became more confident with Bokuto, suggesting new things and voicing his desires, and Bokuto only got more enthusiastic. 

Now, when Akaashi was on top of Bokuto, riding him until he was out of breath, he felt no twinge of panic or need to distract himself. He locked eyes with Bokuto and rocked his hips, firmly present in the moment. He talked Bokuto to the edge and pushed him over with a squeeze of their hands. When Bokuto swallowed him down to finish him, he let the pleasure take him over, let himself rock his hips into Bokuto’s mouth and finish with a gasp. 

In the afterglow, he stroked fingers over sweaty skin and kissed gasping lips. He laughed and hummed as Bokuto spoke, letting himself accept everything. He accepted his trauma and the years he dealt with it alone. His previous determination to stay alone because of it. He accepted Bokuto’s love and care for him. The fact that he wasn’t going to be alone, that he didn’t have to be. He accepted that he had a future of friends and family who loved and supported him. 

He accepted that he could be happy, finally. 


End file.
